After a nice visit with my godparents, we drove by 2435 Devoe Terrace (photo below), an apartment building we called home the first few months in America. (How did we get from Uncle Ping’s house in Brighton Beach in Brooklyn to the apartment in the Bronx? Did we take the subway or Uncle drove us there? How did we know to transfer from the D train in Brooklyn to #4 to the Bronx? Who told us to make sure that we got off at Fordham Road?)
I remembered walking from the building, around the outside of the park (I was told it would be safer not to walk thru the park.), and then a few long blocks to the subway station. Our apartment was next to the corner apartment on the top floor. (The old lady who lived in that corner apartment was really nice to us. She encouraged us to practice English with her and invited us to her apartment to listen to music.) Our apartment had three rooms, a small kitchen, a small eating area and one full bath. At that time, my father’s youngest brother also lived there and he had his own room. My parents got the other room and all four of us kids shared one large room. Seven people in one apartment and one bathroom, yet it still was so much better than the dirt floor hut in the refugee camp!
I started working at MK the following month. MK Company was located around 31st Street and Lexington. After work, I would walk to 33rd Street and Park Avenue to attend English classes for refugees. I don’t remember what we did on the weekend. (How did Mom shop for food? Was there a supermarket nearby that she could walk to? How did she learn to find items she needed in a language she did not know?)
Dad worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant in midtown. I remembered Mom would wait up every night until Dad got home. (What about me walking home after attending evening classes?) Ok, TOTA, stop making it sound so bad. Boo hoo – it is America, stop telling your boring stories about being poor refugees trying your best to make adjustment in the new land. We all had to go thru hard times. It is not about falling down. It is about pulling yourself up and moving forward.
After a few months living at this building, Dad got a better job operating a freight elevator at a manufacturer in Queens. Someone from a Vietnamese Social Agency helped the family find an apartment in Elmhurst which made it much easier for Dad to go to work. I still worked at MK Company and it was also much nicer for my commute. The #7 Flushing train is only a short walking distance from the apartment at 89-25 Elmhurst Avenue. (Good thing we did not know anything about baseball so it was not that difficult to switch from being a NY Yankees to a NY Mets!)
After a nice visit with my godparents, we drove by 2435 Devoe Terrace (photo below), an apartment building we called home the first few months in America. (How did we get from Uncle Ping’s house in Brighton Beach in Brooklyn to the apartment in the Bronx? Did we take the subway or Uncle drove us there? How did we know to transfer from the D train in Brooklyn to #4 to the Bronx? Who told us to make sure that we got off at Fordham Road?)
I remembered walking from the building, around the outside of the park (I was told it would be safer not to walk thru the park.), and then a few long blocks to the subway station. Our apartment was next to the corner apartment on the top floor. (The old lady who lived in that corner apartment was really nice to us. She encouraged us to practice English with her and invited us to her apartment to listen to music.) Our apartment had three rooms, a small kitchen, a small eating area and one full bath. At that time, my father’s youngest brother also lived there and he had his own room. My parents got the other room and all four of us kids shared one large room. Seven people in one apartment and one bathroom, yet it still was so much better than the dirt floor hut in the refugee camp!
I started working at MK the following month. MK Company was located around 31st Street and Lexington. After work, I would walk to 33rd Street and Park Avenue to attend English classes for refugees. I don’t remember what we did on the weekend. (How did Mom shop for food? Was there a supermarket nearby that she could walk to? How did she learn to find items she needed in a language she did not know?)
Dad worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant in midtown. I remembered Mom would wait up every night until Dad got home. (What about me walking home after attending evening classes?) Ok, TOTA, stop making it sound so bad. Boo hoo – it is America, stop telling your boring stories about being poor refugees trying your best to make adjustment in the new land. We all had to go thru hard times. It is not about falling down. It is about pulling yourself up and moving forward.
After a few months living at this building, Dad got a better job operating a freight elevator at a manufacturer in Queens. Someone from a Vietnamese Social Agency helped the family find an apartment in Elmhurst which made it much easier for Dad to go to work. I still worked at MK Company and it was also much nicer for my commute. The #7 Flushing train is only a short walking distance from the apartment at 89-25 Elmhurst Avenue. (Good thing we did not know anything about baseball so it was not that difficult to switch from being a NY Yankees to a NY Mets!)
1 comment:
I think parents did grocery shopping at the supermarket on University Avenue, across from Tolentine Church. I recall vividly how I was fascinated by the supermarket's automated door. One time, while waiting outside for Mom, I stepped repeatedly on the entrance mat just to have the door open. Just like in the Lô? Tai Lü\a ("Donkey-Earred") TV series (Star Trek)! Eventually the Klingon Guard, uh security guard, told me to quit it.
Post a Comment